


what remains unspoken

by lilabut



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, F/M, Fix-It, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 11:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10535529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilabut/pseuds/lilabut
Summary: Daryl and Carol share a brief moment after the battle.spoilers for 7x16





	

The brick stairs are rough beneath her palms, dry in the afternoon sun. Dust settles against her skin when she drums her fingers against the step, looking down at the street in front of them.

 

Morgan is quiet by her side. Immobile.

 

She knows the pain he feels too well. Would feel it, too if she allowed herself. But she can't right now, not while the dust still settles and the blood on the streets is still fresh.

 

Without the armor she'd shed, Carol feels oddly light. The breeze tickles her skin and she wonders how sweet their victory might taste if it wasn't so tainted by the loss it brought - by the sacrifices made.

 

She sees him then, walking down the busy street, crossbow slung over his shoulder. His steps seem heavier than they used to, like he's carrying even more weight on his shoulders. It's something she didn't miss the last time she saw him, but she hadn't allowed herself to _see_. Instead, she'd forced herself to believe the lie he told her when deep down, she knew all along it wasn't true.

 

Their eyes meet, his own surrounded by dark circles, and his steps slow down. Taking a deep breath, Carol pushes herself onto her feet. Glancing down at Morgan, she's not surprised to not find him looking back at her. He's stuck in a spiral of pain that she can't help him escape - not now.

 

Her boots make barely a sound against the asphalt, but her blood rushes loudly in her ears as she approaches him. He avoids her gaze, stares down at the mud-caked toes of his boots, nervous fingers fiddling with the strap of his bow.

 

He's afraid. Afraid of her.

 

But he has no reason, and her heart stutters more with every step she takes.

 

He sucks in a surprised breath when she wraps her arms around him, his body stiff against her own. Her forehead presses against his shoulder, and she allows herself a moment of weakness, breathing in the scent of him. Pine and smoke and gunpowder. Something else that is just him. Familiar.

 

 _'m sorry,_ he whispers with a broken voice and spirit, not moving an inch, his arms stiffly by his sides.

 

So much shame seeps from his words that her eyes begin to water. She blinks the unwanted tears away and pulls back enough to look at him. A gaze he can't return.

 

 _No,_ she says softly. There's so much she wants to tell him. How grateful she is for the mercy of his lie. There's so much she wants to ask him. What really happened that rendered him so frail and so vengeful. There's so much she wants to _do_. Smooth the worry and blame from the face she loves so much.

 

But out here in the open, their skin and souls raw and exposed, she knows it will only do more harm. He won't allow it, will only shut down more. And she can't let her guard down, either. Not here, not yet.

 

She can feel the weight of every living soul she took. Old and new. Littered like scars in her own soul not unlike the ones that have been carved into her body. But when Daryl looks up and she finally looks him in the eyes, she sees old demons reflected there that he'd kept buried for so long.

 

 _Don't be sorry._ Her words are so quiet, she's not sure he even heard her. He swallows, blinking away tears of his own and the sight nearly tears her apart. Against her better judgment, purely by instinct, her hand reaches out, falls into place against the warm skin of his forearm.

 

He tenses for a moment, can't allow himself to accept her comfort.

 

 _Didn't want ya to fight._ His voice falters, a breath stuck in his throat. _Didn't want ya to..._

 

She nods then. _I know._ It's all she says, all she _can_ say. Her hand lingers for a moment longer before she allows it to fall away. The warmth of him remains, tingling against the skin of her palm.

 

The silence that stretches between them is filled to the brim with so many words left unspoken. Confessions she's not sure she can make, answers she can not give him yet. What the future holds. Where she'll go.

 

There are other things, too. Little thoughts that glimmer like embers in her heart. Tiny lights that grow when he is around, when she thinks of him. Thoughts she hasn't allowed herself to feel in so long.

 

She knows he harbors the same questions, hopes. Maybe even desire. It's all there in the blue depths of his glistening eyes.

 

But there is too much wearing them down, too much blood that needs to dry.

 

Maybe there will be a time for that. For _them_. For peace and quiet in the midst of the ruins of this world. Maybe there's hope after all. The thrill of their victory promises that, a small flame that flickers determinedly against the raging storm.

 

 _I'm here,_ she whispers, and something shines in Daryl's eyes that she hasn't seen in a long time. Her words are an unspoken promise. Not to run again. Not to fall back into the shell of herself, a ghost that roamed these streets.

 

A promise to try.

 

He nods, making that same promise. To _try_. To start over.

 

When the time is right.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, I wasn't quite happy with what the show gave us. I wish they'd have given us some kind of reaction to Carol's return, a moment for her to share with someone other than Morgan - preferably Daryl. This is why I wrote this, and I hope some of you enjoyed it :)


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